


Chandler Finds Love - Chapter One

by Rafaelle



Category: Whitechapel (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-08 21:05:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1956120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rafaelle/pseuds/Rafaelle





	Chandler Finds Love - Chapter One

The hooded man charged at him, catching him off balance, and he tumbled down the stairs, catching the side of his head a glancing blow on the banister.

He landed on his back on the pavement. The man advanced on him, a huge knife glinting in his right hand.

He tried to get up, but the breath had been knocked out of him, and he didn’t seem to be able to move any of his limbs. In horror, he was forced to lie there, waiting for what was going to happen next.

The hooded man reached the bottom of the stairs, and stood over him for a moment. He wanted to close his eyes, but he could not take his eyes off the knife glinting in his hand.

His knife hand started to move, and he knew this was it. He still could not move, and there was nothing to stop this man from gutting him, cutting his throat, whatever he wanted.

He braced himself as best he could, but then, amazingly, he heard a voice from a little to his right. A woman shouted, “Hey.”

The hooded man looked up, then stepped over him in the direction of the woman who had shouted.

He redoubled his efforts to get up. 

He turned his head to the right, horrified but unable to look away. He struggled to move, not wanting to see the woman who had possibly saved his life be murdered before his eyes.

The hooded man advanced on her, and she stared into his eyes, until, from nowhere, she kicked him heavily in the groin.

The man staggered and fell to one knee, as the woman took a couple of steps back from him, her eyes wary.

Finally, he managed to roll onto his side, then his hands and knees, then he slowly stood up, feeling a little woozy. He staggered over to the hooded man, and grabbed the hand with the knife in it.

The knife man was injured, but he was not ready to give up without a fight. He kept hold of the knife with a vice-like grip.

Still woozy, he wondered if he would be able to make him let go, or if he was about to be overpowered. 

But to his amazement, the woman came over and grabbed the man’s other arm with both of her hands.

Between them, they pushed him over onto his back, and she knelt on his left arm with both knees, while he bashed the man’s hand onto the pavement, as hard as he could, to try to make him let go of the knife.

He must’ve dashed it against the concrete a dozen times before he finally let go, and the knife skittered across the pavement for a couple of feet.

The man was still struggling to get away, but taking a leaf out of his saviour’s book, he held his arm down with his knee, and wrestled his police radio out of his pocket.

He requested urgent backup, and at the same moment, a couple more passers-by reached the scene, and a burly man took over from the woman who was holding the man’s other arm.

A second passer-by sat on his flailing legs, and thankfully, he was finally immobilised. He took the opportunity to read him his rights, wanting as big a pool of witnesses as possible that everything had been done by the book.

A few minutes later, a coupled of patrol cars and a black Mariah screeched up with a cacophony of sirens. The man was cuffed and bundled into the back of the van.

That done, he picked up and bagged the knife, handing it to a trusted sergeant to take care of.

He set his team into action securing and sealing off the crime scene, and getting witnesses’ details, then he looked around for the woman who had almost certainly saved his life.

She was sitting on the kerb, her knees drawn up, and both gloved hands covering her face.

He walked over and sat down beside her, leaving a respectful distance between them. “Are you alright?”, he asked.

She seemed surprised to be addressed. She took her hands away from her face and used them to hug her knees to her chest.

“I think so.”, she replied, “Are you?”

He reached up and felt the blood drying on his face. It didn’t seem too copious, but he asked her, “I don’t know. How does it look?”

She scrutinised the side of his face intently. “The bleeding seems to have stopped. You might need a stitch or two, but it seems OK.”

She was silent for a moment, the added, “You should be careful in case you have a concussion, though.”

“I will.”, he said, strangely touched by her concern.


End file.
